


Shadow Wolves, Hangovers, and the College Experience

by ViolettaWrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Also regular Derek, But he just misses Stiles, College, College Student Stiles, Derek is a little stalkery for a bit, Drugs, Explicit warning is for later, First chapter is mostly stiles, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Future Fic, Kira what Kira, M/M, Malia what Malia, Near Future, Oblivious Stiles, Parties, Seriously I'm just pretending some of the newer characters don't exist anymore, Weed, Wolf Derek, and then it gets Stereky, asshole roommates, patience - Freeform, sterek, there will be smut, ~The College Experience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaWrites/pseuds/ViolettaWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From almost day one, though, Stiles had loved college.<br/>So it shouldn’t have surprised him when rumors of something unnatural on campus started going around. <br/>---<br/>“Stiles. If a wolf acts like Derek Hale and looks like Derek Hale, then it’s probably Derek Hale.”<br/>“But- why?” Stiles sputtered.<br/>“He misses you?”<br/>“No, that doesn’t make sense.”<br/>---<br/>In which Oblivious!Stiles goes to college and Derek misses him. In a creepy Derek way.<br/>(And then they bond in very college-y ways.)<br/>(And then they bang.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! The first part has both Stiles and Derek in it, but not a lot of direct interaction, so stay tuned for some Hard-Core Fluff in the next chapter. Also, check out my tumblr at violettawrites.tumblr.com. It's new and I'm following like one person.  
> Thanks,  
> Vi

Stiles was happy. It was too early in the morning for class, and it was definitely too chilly out, even for January. His backpack was absolutely too heavy, and he was pretty sure he had a cold coming on, but he was undoubtedly, entirely happy. It felt good.

The first semester of college had been a whirlwind. Initially, he’d been nervous. He’d planned on going to University of San Francisco with Scott. It was close enough to Beacon Hills to keep the occasional eye on it (although, honestly, the town had quieted down lately) but far enough away to still be an adventure. It was going to be Scott and Stiles, partners in crime, just like old times. And then Stiles had gotten the letter from University of California, Santa Cruz. A full ride, it said. He couldn’t pass it up.

UC Santa Cruz was exactly one hour and 26 minutes away from Scott in San Francisco, 56 minutes away from Lydia at Stanford, and two hours and 13 minutes from Beacon Hills. He’d google map-ed it. So, he reasoned, still close enough if anyone needed help. He really hoped no one needed help, though. His knee still acted up from the last time someone did. Turns out, it’s really easy to shatter a knee when running from a sprite. Fucking sprites.

From almost day one, though, Stiles had loved college. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like The Annoying One. Usually when he started word-vomiting facts he’d accidentally memorized from Wikipedia pages he’d found himself at on some sleepless night, someone would tell him to shut up. But here… people actually listened. And were excited about what he said. Often, they even had their own facts to share. It was bizarre. He loved feeling like knowledge was _cool_ , however lame that sounded. College was the only place he’d ever been where he felt like he actually _fit._ There were still douchebags and a few frats to avoid, but, generally, people liked Stiles. He was actually a little bit popular. It was so, so weird.

Having a far wider social circle than he normally did had its perks. He got invited to parties every weekend, and a lot of random weeknights too. In the beginning, he’d accepted every invitation he could. He’d had this anxious feeling like… like he should create as many memories as he could before people realized what a loser he was. Eventually, to the great fortune of his academics and his worrying dad, he gained enough confidence in himself to slow down and let himself be alone sometimes. He’d found a balance between partying and studying, and he was… just happy. Just really, really happy. It was nice.

So it shouldn’t have surprised him when rumors of something _unnatural_ on campus started going around.

               ***

“Will you walk me home?” the girl Stiles had been talking to asked. He couldn’t remember her name.  They were at a party at someone’s apartment off campus, and Stiles had accidentally gotten a little too drunk. He was usually better at pacing himself, but he’d just turned in a huge paper, and he was _celebrating, dammit._

“I’m not, like, propositioning you,” the girl continued, “I just. I’m kind of freaked out by the weird animal rumors.” Her words were slurring and Stiles guessed she’d probably had too much to drink too. He would have walked her home just for that, but the threat of something _spooky_ strengthened his resolve.

“Yeah, of course.” They said their goodbyes to the host and began walking towards where the girl lived. “So, people think it’s an animal now?”

“Yeah, I mean, everyone’s just seen shadows and heard growls, but, what else would it be, ya know?” She kept looking behind her every few steps, like she expected something to jump out at them. _Who knows, maybe it will,_ Stiles thought. Shadows and growls? It could just be an animal, but, with his luck, it was probably a fucking vampire or something.

She looked freaked out already, though, so instead he just replied, “Hey, I’m sure it’s just a lost dog, or something.” He put his arm around her shoulders in what he hoped was a friendly, reassuring way.

The rumors had been spiraling out of control the last couple weeks. First someone thought they saw a weird shadow, then it was a ghost, then it was a bear. One person even said _bigfoot._ Campus life got dull sometimes, and Stiles suspected it was nothing, just an urban legend fed by bored college kids, but years of living in Beacon Hills taught him to be vigilant. He had notes on his phone already, and he quickly pulled it out and typed: _Shadows, growls, animal?_

When Stiles looked up, they had stopped in front of what must be her apartment building. He began to pull his arm away from her so he could say goodbye and get going, but she twisted to face him. Stiles wondered if it was too late to ask her what her name was.

“I think I lied. I think I’m propositioning you,” she whispered, before leaning in to kiss him. Stiles had not expected this. Stiles actually really did not even know if he wanted this. The angle was hurting his neck and he hated when kisses were too sloppy and she was definitely a sloppy kisser and the way she was licking into his mouth was probably something that should have been arousing but was honestly just kind of _wet._

Stiles stood there, half-heartedly returning the kiss and wondering how to politely turn someone down while their tongue was in your mouth when a growl came from somewhere across the street. It was too-loud and too-menacing and every hair stood up on the back of Stiles’s neck, but he could not have asked for a better distraction. They sprang apart, and as the girl looked around nervously, Stiles said, “You should get inside.” She was so startled she apparently didn’t see the flaw in the logic of letting Stiles stay outside while she retreated in, which was exactly what Stiles was hoping would happen.

As the front door slammed shut, Stiles leaned against the wall, steadying his breath. Supernatural shit he could deal with, but girls still kind of confused him sometimes.

He squinted into the dark. It looked like whatever had been there was gone now. Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking to his dorm. Apparently, the rumors were at least partially true then. Ugh. He wondered if his roommate would think he was too weird if he turned his corkboard into a supernatural crime chart. Actually, his roommate already thought he was too weird. Asshole. He’d go buy red string in the morning.

***

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a husky?” the girl behind Stiles asked her friend. He was sitting in the dining hall, hand full of fries paused on the way to his mouth. He was _very_ bad at not obviously eavesdropping, but he also _really_ needed to hear this conversation.

“I know what a frickin’ husky looks like, Janice. I’m telling you- this was a wolf,” the friend answered. “It was huge.”

“Did it, like, growl or anything? People keep saying whatever it is _growls._ ”

“No, it didn’t even look at me. It was just hanging out outside of Cowell, looking… _sinister._ ” The girl broke off as her friend burst into giggles. “Stop laughing, it’s not funny!”

Cowell was his dorm. What was a wolf doing outside of his dorm? Wolves didn’t live around here… which meant… Stiles dropped the fries and reached for his phone, shooting a text to Scott.

**I think I have a werewolf situation.**

Scott called him within seconds.

***

“You finally done skyping your boyfriend?” Jeremy said, shoving their dorm room door open so hard it banged against the wall. Like he did. Every time. He came in the room. Stiles fucking hated his roommate.

“Scott is _still_ not my boyfriend, Jeremy,” Stiles answered, wiping a hand down his tired face. He’d been up late the last three nights talking to Scott, pinning things to the supernatural crime board above his bed, and generally trying to figure out what was going on around here. It’s not that he minded anyone thinking Scott was his boyfriend. Sure, Scott was practically his brother, but from the outside he could see why talking to someone that much seemed codependent in a relationship-y sort of way. Plus, it’s not like Stiles didn’t like men. He actually really, _really_ liked men, as he finally realized last semester. The problem was that Stiles had told Jeremy that Scott wasn’t his boyfriend. Repeatedly. Gay jokes were so… _middle school._

“Yeah, whatever, are you done playing pretend so I can go to bed?” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck Jeremy. He reminded Stiles of Jackson Whittemore from high school. Except at least Jackson had eventually known about the supernatural stuff so he didn’t mock Stiles mercilessly for trying to solve a werewolf mystery. Like Jeremy did. All the fucking time.

“Yeah. Good night.”

“Whatever.”

The room went dark.

***

“Add this to your fucking crime board,” Jeremy snarled, barreling into Stiles in the common room, and thrusting his arm in Stiles’s face. The arm had an angry red imprint of some big-ass teeth, but the skin wasn’t broken at all. Weird.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious.

“I was walking back from Tanya’s and this giant fucking wolf knocks me the fuck down. When I put up my arm so it didn’t eat my fucking face, it fucking bit it.”  Stiles wanted to make a joke about the phrase “fucking face” but let it go. He had more important questions.

“How’d you get away?”

Jeremy looked around the common room and then lowered his voice, like he was afraid of losing street cred or something, which he probably was. _Moron._ “I mean… it just… let me go.”

“It let go of your arm without hurting you and just… walked away?” Stiles replied, incredulous.

“You think this didn’t hurt? Look at this fucking injury!” Jeremy forced his arm even closer to Stiles’s face. The red mark was already fading. Stiles wasn’t a stranger to injuries via supernatural creatures and Jeremy’s so-called injury was lame as hell. He couldn’t keep the look of contempt off his face.

Jeremy stomped off.

***

“Give me your wallet.” The command wasn’t loud or particularly forceful, but it issued from a man holding a knife to Stiles’s throat, so Stiles thought he should probably comply.

Stiles felt stupid for the way his hands shook as he reached into his back pocket. He’d faced far worse than a simple mugging. But, also, even when a knife was in a human’s hand, it could still slit your throat. Stiles swallowed. He probably shouldn’t have walked home alone this late.

Stiles was just about to hand his wallet over when a streak of black flew through the air and landed on the man attempting to rob Stiles, knocking him to the ground. Yep, that was definitely a wolf. And if the glowing blue eyes were anything to go by… a werewolf.

The man scrambled to get back on his feet, sprinting away. Weirdly, the wolf didn’t follow. He just growled once and then trotted off in the opposite direction.

Jogging the rest of the way home, Stiles opened the door to his dorm room to find it gloriously empty. Jeremy must have stayed over at Tanya’s. He immediately called Scott.

“Dude, I saw the werewolf,” Stiles practically yelled by way of greeting, “Also, I almost got mugged, but that’s secondary.”

“What? Are you okay?” Scott sounded alarmed but also like he had been asleep. Stiles was too keyed up to feel bad. He tried to sit down, but his foot vibrated so quickly he switched to pacing the room.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, but, like, _werewolf._ ”

“What happened?” Stiles told Scott the whole story before Scott began asking for more details, “What did he look like? The werewolf?”

“I don’t know, it was dark. But like… black? With blue glowing werewolf eyes?” Actually, the wolf had almost looked familiar. Scott didn’t say anything for so long Stiles thought the call had cut out. “Scott? Buddy? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Hey, listen, have you heard from Derek lately?” Scott’s voice sounded weirdly… tentative.

“No? I mean, not since sometime before winter break? What does that have to do with anything?” Seriously, what the fuck. Focus, Scott.

“I mean… there’s not a lot of werewolves that can morph fully into a wolf form… but Derek can. And when he does… it’s a black wolf with blue eyes…” Scott said it so patiently Stiles felt stupid. But no way. That made no sense.

“No way, man, that makes no sense,” Stiles said out loud.

“I don’t know then.” Stiles could practically hear Scott’s shrug over the phone. “Ask Lydia.”

“Fine, fine. I will. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay, man. Let me know what Lydia says in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good night.”

“Night.”

Stiles chewed his lip. It couldn’t be Derek. Why would Derek be stalking around his college campus scaring students? Stiles hadn’t talked to him in kind of a long time, but the last time he did, he seemed, ya know, _mentally stable._

He texted Lydia.

**Hey, you up?**

_ Yes, why? _

**Can I call?**

_ Yes. _

“Hey, sorry, were you studying?” Stiles asked Lydia when she picked up.

“Always. But what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just. Scott thinks the wolf is Derek? Which makes sense in some ways cos I guess it did look familiar and stuff, but-“

“Back up. Start from the beginning,” Lydia interrupted, cutting short his rambling.

Stiles told her everything that had happened that night. He was glad he’d already filled her in on everything else a few days ago. When he got to the part where he was basically just repeating Scott and his conversation from a minute ago, Lydia began to _hmmmm._

“What? What does that mean?”

“It means obviously the wolf is Derek,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“How’s _that_?”

“Stiles. The wolf got you out of having to explain to that drunk girl why you didn’t want to sleep with her. And then it got your asshole roommate to stop making fun of you for ‘playing pretend.’ And then it protected you from a would-be mugging. And it _looks_ like him. If a wolf acts like Derek Hale and looks like Derek Hale, _then it’s probably Derek Hale.”_

“But- why?” Stiles sputtered.

“He misses you?”

“No, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Ohhhhkay. Then, I don’t know. Ask him yourself?”

“What? Just text him? _‘Hey, Derek, why are you stalking me?’_ That’ll go over well. He’ll just deny it and call me crazy.” Stiles was so irritated with the entire situation. Mostly because he just didn’t _get it._

“No, you have to catch him in the act.”

“And how do I do that, huh?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. I have a test at 8am, and I’m not nearly as prepared as I should be. You’re a smart boy. _Figure it out._ ” The line went dead.

How the fuck was Stiles supposed to trick Derek into admitting that he had, in full wolf form, been prowling around Stiles’s college campus for the last few weeks?

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles had been waiting for days for the opportunity to present itself. Finally, he was alone, walking home late enough that no one was really out, and, most importantly, Derek was around. He wouldn’t have been able to explain to anyone why he was so sure Derek was near; it was just a gut feeling, really, but in the last few years, he’d learned to trust his instincts. He didn’t see Derek, but he //felt// him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this fic is now 12 pages in Microsoft Word. It looks like NOTHING on ao3. So, sorry, guys, I'll shoot for a longer chapter next time. As always, feel free to come ask me things on tumblr: violettawrites.tumblr.com

Stiles had been waiting for days for the opportunity to present itself. Finally, he was alone, walking home late enough that no one was really out, and, most importantly, Derek was around. He wouldn’t have been able to explain to anyone why he was so sure Derek was near; it was just a gut feeling, really, but in the last few years, he’d learned to trust his instincts. He didn’t see Derek, but he _felt_ him.

Stiles turned the corner into an alley. It was technically a shortcut to campus, but he usually didn’t take it because it was a long alley, isolated from the main road’s streetlights and hidden from view. Anything could happen in that alley and pretty much no one would see. It was deeply unsafe. It was perfect for what he was about to do.

Just as Stiles went to take another step, he crumpled. He forced his body to shake violently, convulsing in a way that was probably deeply insulting to people who experienced actual seizures, but was also pretty convincing, he thought.

He’d been at it for less than a minute before the wolf was upon him, sniffing wildly at Stiles, wet nose tickling his neck. Stiles immediately stopped shaking and flipped over onto the wolf, trapping him with sheer body mass. Lying on top of Derek was not the most dignified way to get him to stay put, but it was the most effective. The wolf growled at him, but Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“God, that was the most ableist thing I’ve ever done,” said Stiles, shaking his head. The wolf gave him a look that was so patently Derek that Stiles barked a laugh. “Okay, now change into human form so we can talk.” The wolf just stared at him. “I know it’s you, Derek. The jig is up.” Still nothing but that unwavering blue gaze. “Come _on,_ ” Stiles whined, “I even brought you some pants.” Finally, the barest of nods from the wolf.

As Stiles rolled off, the wolf began to change. Its fur miraculously retracted and its bones shifted in a way that was grotesque, horrifying. Stiles stared, mesmerized. When large expanses of bare skin began to appear, Stiles finally looked away. He rummaged through his backpack, getting out the pair of sweatpants he’d grabbed from his dorm earlier and throwing them at Derek.

Derek was facing away from Stiles, but he caught the sweats without turning around, hand darting out so quickly it would have startled Stiles if Scott hadn’t been doing stuff like that for years now. Stiles tried not to stare at Derek’s golden ass as Derek pulled on the pants. Tried and failed. It was a _really_ nice ass.

Now dressed, Derek faced Stiles, glowering in a way that Stiles knew meant Derek was compensating for a different feeling- shame? Insecurity? Embarrassment?

“I’m not sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They spoke at the same time, Stiles answering an apology Derek refused to give but Stiles knew he meant. _I’m not sorry_ from Derek usually meant _I’m sorry I fucked up I’m trash_ and Stiles wanted to cut off the rush of guilt he knew Derek must be feeling.

“What?” Derek asked, brow furrowed.

“Look, I don’t know why you’ve been skulking around my campus, but I want you to know that it’s okay. It was creepy as hell, yeah, but I know you, and you never have bad intentions. You don’t have to tell me why you were doing it. I’m sure you had a good reason and,” Stiles paused, “I trust you.”

Stiles hadn’t meant to give that little speech. He’d meant to question Derek relentlessly, to demand why Derek was being such a weirdo. But, he knew how Derek was, how much guilt he held- not just for Kate Argent and the fire that killed his family, but for anything, everything. He didn’t want this to be another thing for Derek to feel guilty about.

Derek stared at him for so long that Stiles began to fidget nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Finally, Derek nodded once, gratitude in his eyes, before one edge of his mouth curled up and he said, “ _Skulking?_ Really?”

“Dude,” Stiles laughed, “you were totally skulking.”

***

“Why do you even drink beer if you can’t get drunk?” Stiles asked later, when they’d somehow ended up in his dorm room, Stiles finishing his homework while Derek lounged on Stiles’s bed, sipping a can of beer.

“I like the taste,” Derek said with a shrug.

“God, you’re so weird. How did you even survive college without being able to get drunk every once in a while?”

“You sound like an alcoholic.”

“That’s not an answer!” Stiles replied, throwing a pencil that Derek very unsurprisingly dodged.

“Lots of people don’t drink, Stiles.”

“Still not an answer,” Stiles sing-songed. Derek huffed and Stiles grinned at the expression. He missed this, pestering Derek. Derek pretended like Stiles was annoying, but Stiles knew Derek enjoyed the banter just as much as he did.

Derek rolled his eyes, but answered, “I took online classes.”

“What?” Stiles said. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “Why?” Derek was _smart_. Stiles couldn’t imagine him settling for anything less than a proper university. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with online colleges, but it didn’t really seem like something Derek would particularly enjoy.

“I don’t like people.” It was such a Derek thing to say that Stiles rolled his eyes so hard he practically fell of his desk chair, but then Derek continued. “And it was too soon after… what happened.” Stiles heard what Derek wasn’t saying. _The time to go to college came too soon after the death of almost my entire family. I wasn’t ready to face that many people yet, to be normal yet._

Stiles looked at Derek, caught his eye, held his gaze, nodded. “I understand.”

***

“Do you feel like you missed out?” Stiles asked Derek the next day.

At the end of the previous evening, Stiles had stood outside his dorm with Derek, not quite sure what to say. _I’d better get to bed,_ he’d finally settled on. _I’ll see you around, I guess_ Derek had replied, looking more reluctant to leave than Stiles had seen in a long time. Derek had begun to walk away when Stiles had called, _I’ve got a paper to write tomorrow, but you’re welcome to come over and, I dunno, throw things at me when I start to lose focus. Or something._ Derek had nodded, looking strangely grateful, before walking away.

“Missed out on what?” Derek asked without looking up from the book he was reading.

“The, ya know,” Stiles spread his arms wide, “college experience.”

Derek shrugged, opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth and shrugged again. That was a _yes._

Stiles tried to go back to writing his paper, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was that Derek never got to experience anything except the academic part of college. Yeah, academics were important, but so were _memories._ Derek should get to have fun too. Stiles tapped a pen against his mouth, thinking. He glanced at the to-do list that’d been pinned to his cork board since he’d taken all the mystery notes and red string down. An idea took root.

***

“No,” Derek said when presented with the piece of notebook paper titled _College Experience To-Do List_.

“Come _on,”_ Stiles whined.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“ _Why?”_ Derek implored, book flung to the side in exasperation. He was such a drama queen.

“I haven’t seen you since last summer. It could be a fun thing we did together.” Stiles had meant to explain how Derek had missed out, how these were necessary experiences to _life_. That came out instead.

Derek paused, looked at him. “Fine,” he finally said.

***

“Okay, so,” Stiles started, pausing to finish chewing a mouthful of Pad Thai. When Stiles had told Derek he couldn’t hang out today because of a group project and club lacrosse practice, Derek offered to buy him lunch. _No, no, I couldn’t accept that…_ Stiles had half-heartedly protested. Derek had only lifted a single eyebrow before Stiles caved. He missed good, non-cafeteria food, okay? “We’ve got the classics: get drunk, go to a party. Would you smoke?”

Derek peered at the list over his Pad See Ew. “I’ve smoked cigarettes, Stiles. They’re disgusting.”

Stiles snorted. “Weed, dude. Weed.”

“You know I can’t get high,” Derek said with a condescending look.

“I will tell you the same thing I told you about the alcohol: I’ll figure it out.” Stiles wasn’t actually sure _how_ he would go about overcoming Derek’s werewolf defense mechanisms, the ones that kept him so firmly on the side of sobriety, but Stiles _would_ think of something.

“I guess that is what you’re good at,” Derek said, shrugging.

“What?”

“Research. Planning. It’s your thing.” When Stiles just stared at him, Derek continued, “You’re the one who always does the research, comes up with the strategy. You’re the brains of the pack.” He quickly added, “Don’t tell Lydia I said that.” Stiles smiled at that.

Derek said it so flippantly, but Stiles felt something like warmth spread through his chest. He spent so often feeling inferior to his supernatural-ability-having friends. It wasn’t their fault, but as much as Stiles had come to terms with the fact that he was human, hell, he even _liked_ being human, he still felt just kind of… unnecessary, sometimes. Useless. So it was just nice to hear. Really nice.

“Hey,” Stiles said, locking eyes with Derek, “thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied gruffly, but the tips of his ears were red. Derek was as unused to receiving thanks as Stiles was unused to feeling needed.

They made a strange pair.

They made a good pair.

***

“Did you know that you can buy wolfsbane on Amazon?” Stiles asked Scott and Lydia. They were three-way skyping while Lydia and Scott took a study break and Stiles took a break from taking a break. Procrastinating was hard work.

“You’d be surprised what you can find on Amazon,” Lydia replied. Stiles shook his head at the wicked gleam in her eye. He’d ask her about that one later.

“Are you planning on murdering me?” Scott asked with a grin. Man, Stiles missed that grin. He needed to visit Scott soon.

“Nah, it’s for,” Stiles paused. He didn’t want to tell them about Derek and his to-do list. They would make fun of it. And even if they didn’t… Stiles just. Wanted this to be a Derek-Stiles thing. So they could bond. As, ya know, bros. Yeah. “just an experiment I’m doing.”

“Oh, okay,” Scott answered, thankfully not pushing it.

“Derek still hanging around?” Lydia asked, switching topics.

“Yeah, he’s coming over later.”

“How much later?” Lydia asked, a smirk changing the innocent question to an innuendo.

Stiles expected Scott to yell “gross!” or something along those lines. When he didn’t, Stiles replied awkwardly, “You know it’s not like that, Lyd.”

“Whatever you say, Stiles,” Lydia said, before they all decided it was time to say goodbye and get back to work.

Stiles stared at his blank computer screen for a long time after skype was closed. It wasn’t like that. It could never be like that. Sure, Derek was hot. You’d have to be blind not to see that. But he was also _Sex God Hot_ while Stiles was, at best, Nerd Chic. Stiles wasn’t being self-conscious, he was just being _practical._ And, it’s not like Stiles had never thought about it, but that was the problem. He’d thought about it too much. And he’d decided a long time ago that if Derek and he were ever going to be friends, Stiles was gonna have to get over his crush. It’d worked with Lydia. And it was working with Derek. _It was._

It had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The views expressed by these characters are not views that I myself possess. Never feel like you have to drink or smoke or do any of that just because you're in college or something. Nobody will care if you don't drink. Seriously, no one. Also, online college is absolutely valid and important and challenging. I'm 100% not trying to shame anyone for doing the things Stiles doesn't like. Stiles is fictional. Your self-esteem is not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles broke off with a gasp, ripping his hand away from Derek’s face. His hand was wet. “Did you just lick me?”  
> “You wouldn’t let me talk,” Derek said. His smug expression ruined the nonchalance of his shrug.  
> “You absolute child,” Stiles sputtered. He hoped Derek wasn’t paying attention to his heart rate because it was going haywire. Derek’s tongue on his hand. Oh my god.   
> Derek rolled his eyes and picked up his knitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the long wait, but I was feeling completely uninspired. Also, sorry for the continued lack of indentation at the begging of new paragraphs- AO3 makes it stupidly hard to indent. Anyways, enjoy!

“Why are we at a craft store again?” Derek asked, lazily pushing a cart as Stiles darted up and down aisles, snatching bottles and jars and passing them to Derek.

“For _supplies,”_ Stiles reminded him.

“For the ‘College Experience To-Do List.’”

 Stiles didn’t even have to turn around to know that Derek was rolling his eyes.

 “ _Yes,_ ” Stiles insisted before adding, _“_ Also, cos crafts are awesome. And the craft store is too far without a car. And you have a car.”

“Are you using me for crafts?” Derek asked, dry tone matching a single raised eyebrow.

“And for Thai food, don’t forget that.” Stiles thought that would earn him another eye-roll, but Derek seemed to be too focused on the display behind him. Which was about knitting… Weird. “Do you… knit?”

“I used to.”

Stiles hadn’t really been serious when he’d asked, so the answer took him by surprise. However, any temptation to make fun of him, big-strong-picture-of-masculinity-Derek _knitting_ for god’s sake, vanished when Stiles noticed Derek’s expression. He looked _sad._ Like really, really bone-deep sad.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, softly.

“Laura taught me in high school. Said it would be calming.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.”

Derek continued to stare past him, and finally, Stiles couldn’t stand the look on his face anymore. He picked a skein of yarn at random, and tossed it to Derek. Attempting to lighten the mood he joked, “Make me a hat. I love hats.”

Instead of throwing the yarn back, though, Derek placed it in the cart, nodding. He didn’t smile, but he also didn’t look quite so sad anymore.

It was enough.

***

“ _This_ is why we bought so many jars and bottles?” Derek asked a few days later, staring incredulously at the collection of glass containers under Stiles’s bed. Stiles just finished telling him about how he filled each of them with varying concentrations of wolfsbane in whiskey. “Are you trying to _kill_ me? _Wolfsbane?”_

“Woah, woah, woah,” Stiles said, slightly stung, “None of this is nearly a high enough concentration to kill you. I wouldn’t play with your life, man. I did my research.”

“Yeah, and what’s your ‘ _research’_ say?” Derek said, but he already looked less outraged than before.

“Wolfsbane doesn’t kill you,” Stiles continued through Derek’s unconvinced snort, “ _It doesn’t._ It slows down your supernatural healing. Sure, a high enough concentration will kill you, but that’s because a high enough concentration will kill _anyone_ , and once you can’t super-heal away the toxin, you’re susceptible to the plant’s poisonous properties.” Stiles put a hand over Derek’s mouth when he looked like he might interrupt, “20 to 40mL of wolfsbane tincture will prove fatal to humans, and none of the stuff in these jars comes anywhere _near_ that. No one is dying, and,” he pressed his hand more firmly over Derek’s mouth when Derek tried to speak again, “ _and_ since it slows down your healing, that means your body won’t clear the alcohol from your system faster than it takes to get you _drunk,_ so all we need to do is figure out what the right ratio of wolfsbane to whiskey is and then we’ll be set, so-“

Stiles broke off with a gasp, ripping his hand away from Derek’s face. His hand was _wet._ “Did you just _lick_ me?”

“You wouldn’t let me talk,” Derek said. His smug expression ruined the nonchalance of his shrug.

“You absolute _child,”_ Stiles sputtered. He hoped Derek wasn’t paying attention to his heart rate because it was going _haywire._ Derek’s _tongue_ on his _hand._ Oh my _god._

Derek rolled his eyes and picked up his knitting.

***

Stiles felt his phone vibrate and even though he swore he wouldn’t get distracted, he would _study_ dammit, he still fished it out of his pocket so he could check it.

_ Hey _

The text was from Derek. He shouldn’t respond. He wouldn’t respond. He would STUDY.

**What’s up?**

Stiles responded. Because it was Derek. And Stiles was weak.

_ I have something for you. _

Something like an electric current swept through Stiles.

**???**

_ You busy? I can come by and give it to you. _

**I’m at the library studying for a massive test.**

_ Another time then. _

Stiles considered his options. He _should_ agree, tell Derek to come by tomorrow instead, continue studying. But then he’d have to wait a whole 24 hours to know what Derek wanted to give him.

**No, come by now! I need to know what it is!!!!**

_ I don’t want to distract you from your studies. It’s not important. _

**No way, you KNOW the curiosity alone will distract me more than you will.**

_ It’s really not that interesting. _

**I’m on the second floor of the library. Room 224. Come onnnnnn.**

_ Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes. _

Stiles grinned at his phone.

“How come you look so happy?” asked Maria, one of the friends Stiles was sharing the library study room with. You could tell everyone was stressed out by how silently all four of them had been working. This was the first thing anyone had uttered in _two hours._ Tomorrow’s test was going to be awful.

“No reason. Hey, is it cool if my friend Derek joins us?”

“Is he the real reason? For the goofy smile?” Maria smirked. Eric and Meghan looked up from their computers to laugh.

“Shut up,” Stiles replied, bumping Maria’s shoulder with his own. “Is it cool or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool.”

It was a relief when Derek finally showed up. But also totally not. The entire time Stiles had been waiting, which, okay, wasn’t that long, but still, he couldn’t stop trying to guess what Derek could possibly have to give him. And the mundane (a mug to replace the one Stiles had dropped last time Derek had been in his dorm room? A broom because that same time, Derek had been dismayed to find Stiles didn’t own one to help clean up the shards?) turned into the, er, erotic a little too quickly. (“I came to give you… a kiss,” Derek said in his thoughts, broad hands pushing Stiles up against the wall, lips descending dramatically towards Stiles.) (Those same hands roaming down…) (…And down…)(And-

“Is that your friend?” Maria asked, looking mildly annoyed.

“What?”

“Is that your friend _knocking loudly_ on the _door?”_ She was looking at Stiles in the way people did when he’d been totally spaced out for a while. Shit.

“Uh, yeah, probably, I mean… yeah.” Shit. Shit. Stiles could not be fantasizing about Derek while Derek was _right there_ on the other side of the door. Derek could probably smell his lust from there. Before today, Stiles had been doing a pretty good job of keeping his attraction to Derek a secret by heavily censoring his thoughts when Derek was around since a) Derek had a built-in lust detector _and_ lie detector courtesy of the wolfy powers and b) maybe if Stiles stopped thinking about how hot Derek was all the time, Stiles could forget, and then they could _actually be friends._ (The forgetting thing obviously hadn’t really happened yet.) So, in comparison to how he normally smelled, Stiles probably _reeked_ of lust right now. Fuck.

“Hey,” Stiles said, opening the door to the library study room. He tried to force himself to look relaxed. Derek was looking at him with his puzzle-solving expression, which was a _really_ bad sign.

“I thought you were alone,” he said, staring past Stiles. Eric and Meghan had gone to get snacks a few minutes ago, so only Maria was left. She waved briefly at Derek before continuing typing up her study guide. Something about Derek’s expression seemed… hard, closed-off.

“Nope, my friend Maria’s here, and Eric and Meghan should be back soon.” Stiles really didn’t like the way Derek was looking at him. He tried to smile encouragingly, “So, what cha got for me?”

Wordlessly, Derek handed Stiles a knit beanie.

It took Stiles a bit to get it. He put the hat on, and it was nice, soft, fit him perfectly. When Derek, looked down, shifted his weight slightly, looked like some semblance of _abashed_ , it finally hit him.

“What- did you- did you _make_ this?” Stiles sputtered. It wasn’t the hat he’d seen Derek working on earlier that week. Derek must have scrapped the first one and started over.

“Yeah,” Derek said, and it came out gruff. “You don’t have to-”

“Dude, this is _awesome-_ ”

“If you don’t like it-”

“I’m going to wear this _every day.”_

“It’s really not a-”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, touching Derek’s arm.

“You’re welcome.”

They looked at each other for one beat, two. Something stirred in Stiles as he saw the life come back into Derek’s eyes.

It was Maria who finally broke the connection.

“Do you think you guys could take it outside or something? Sorry, I just really need to finish this,” she said, not looking up from her work.

And just like that, Derek looked blank again.

“I was leaving anyway,” he said, and even though that was for the best, even though Stiles _really_ needed to study, he couldn’t help feeling crushingly disappointed. _Crushingly._

“So soon?”

Derek didn’t even try to come up with an excuse for why he was leaving so quickly. He just nodded once at Stiles, and shut the door behind him.

Stiles took the hat from his head and stared at it. _Derek made him a hat._

“ _So soon?”_ Maria mimicked, snorting, “You’re so in fucking love it makes me physically ill.”

“ _Shut up.”_

***

Derek was ignoring him, it was the only explanation. It was weird enough that he hadn’t come by Stiles’ dorm room unannounced, as per usual, but Derek wasn’t even answering his phone.

“ _This is Derek Hale. Leave a message.”_

As the phone _beep_ -ed softly, Stiles tried to think of what to say. (“ _Why are you ignoring me?” “Did I do something wrong?” “Did you finally notice how much I want to screw you all the fucking time?” “I promise to keep it in my pants?” “I’m sorry?”_ )

He ended the call without saying anything at all.

***

A week after Stiles had seen Derek last, he tried texting him again:

**I got an A on that test I was studying for.**

**That hat you made me must be lucky.**

Derek didn’t respond.

***

High School Stiles would have moped. Not that College Stiles didn’t mope, but two weeks later, he wasn’t sad as much as he was _angry._ So _what_ if he’d been thinkin sexy thoughts about the guy, Stiles hadn’t _done anything_ to Derek _._ This was _completely_ uncalled for. This was _childish._ This was _rude._

Stiles knew that if he tried leaving a message yelling at him, Derek would just ignore it, so instead he tried something else. Stiles tried triggering the one thing Derek was _always_ capable of, no matter how stubborn- protection through self-sacrifice.

“ _This is Derek Hale. Leave a message_.”

“Hey, Derek, it’s Stiles, I haven’t heard from you lately, so I just wanted to know if you were still into the whole College Experience To-Do List thing because I’m trying to get some weed for us, and you think it’d be easy in California, but the only dealer I’ve been able to find is some shady dude that drives a car with bullet holes in it. I think he might be a pimp too, actually. In addition to being a drug dealer, I mean. It’s not a huge problem, though, I’m on my way over to him now- he asked me to meet him in his apartment, said he’d keep the door open and I should just come in and-“

Stiles deliberately hung up without finishing his sentence.

Like fucking clockwork, Derek called a moment later.

“Stiles? Where are you?” Stiles almost felt bad about the panic he detected in Derek’s voice. Almost.

“Why? So you can come see if I’m safe and then ignore me for two weeks again?”

“Look-”

“No, _you_ look. That was really fucking rude, okay?”

“If you’re finished, I-“ Stiles bristled. What a fucking asshole.

“No, I am _not_ finished. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Derek responded, inexplicably sounding just as angry as Stiles did. What did _Derek_ have to be angry about!?

“Well, then start fucking acting like it because I got used to seeing you all the time and then you dropped off the face of the fucking planet and that _hurt,_ okay? That did _not feel good._ ”

The line was silent for so long Stiles thought maybe Derek had hung up without Stiles noticing. And then Derek spoke.

“Can I come over?”

“ _Now_ you want to come over?” Stiles was livid. Derek couldn’t just pretend like nothing was wrong and go back to hanging out with him. They needed to _talk about this._ So that it didn’t happen _ever again._

“Yeah.” Stiles heard Derek clear his throat. “I think we need to talk.”

It was what Stiles wanted, the talking, but the way Derek said it made it feel like Stiles was about to get broken up with. And they weren’t even goddamn dating.

“Fine.”

Derek hung up, and Stiles felt a weight on his chest, the way he did when he suspected something terrible was about to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well,” Derek began, and the way he wouldn’t meet Stiles's eyes peaked Stiles’s interest. “I was just thinking about the College Experience To-Do List thing.”  
> “You still want to do it?”  
> “I said I would, didn’t I?”  
> Stiles slammed his textbook shut, grinning. “I think I’m done studying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking forever to update, yet again. I have such a motivation problem! I'm sorry!

Stiles paced around his room, waiting for Derek. At least his asshole roommate Jeremy was spending all his time at Tanya’s these days, so Stiles didn’t have to deal with Jeremy _and_ this mess. Talking to Derek on the phone hadn’t calmed him down. If anything, it’d made Stiles even angrier. By the time Derek climbed through Stiles’s window, Stiles was seething. _Fuck,_ Derek, honestly. Fuck Derek for ignoring him for such a _dumb_ reason.

Derek faced Stiles, and the expression on his face pissed Stiles off more. He looked so calm, so collected. How _dare_ Derek not be a mess like Stiles was.

Derek opened his mouth then closed it again. He did this twice more before finally saying, “I think it’d be better if we saw less of each other.” _WHAT._

“You fucking _asshole,”_ Stiles exploded. “You homophobic _prick.”_

“What?” Derek’s eyebrows were drawn together, like he was _confused._ Like he didn’t _know._

“I’m _so_ sorry that you happened to walk into the library when I was all lusty over you, but it’s not like I would ever _do_ anything to you. You’ve been around me when I’ve popped boners over you for _years_ and it’s never been a problem. I have never made a pass at you and I _won’t_ ever, and you _know_ that, so _why,_ all of the sudden, is it some kind of _problem_?”

“ _What?”_ Derek’s eyebrows were now somehow both drawn _and_ raised.

"You walked into the library, smelled my lust over you, then got all closed-off and grumpy. And then ignored me. For way too long.” Fuck Derek for making him say it.

Derek stared at Stiles.

And then he _laughed._

 _S_ tiles was torn between appreciating the relief flooding through Derek’s face and wanting to smack Derek across that very face for _laughing_ at him when he was angry. What the _hell._

“Why are you _laughing?”_

"Because, Stiles,” Derek said, still chuckling a little, “that doesn’t make any sense. I can’t read your mind. How could I be mad at you for something I didn’t even know?”

“But you smelled my lust.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was for _me._ ” Oh my god. Oh my god. Stiles was an idiot. Stiles was the biggest idiot on the entire fucking planet.

 “Then who..? Then… why…?” Stiles sat down on the edge of his bed. He felt like the world was spinning.

“I thought,” Derek cleared his throat. His face was serious again, anxious even. “I thought I’d interrupted you and that girl.”

_"Maria?”_

Derek nodded.

“We were _studying.”_ This time it was Stiles’s eyebrows that were sky-high.

Derek didn’t respond for a minute, and he had on his thinking face, like he was deciding something important. When he finally spoke, it sounded rehearsed. “Regardless of what you were doing, the situation made me realize that I need to hang around here less. You shouldn’t be spending all your time with some too-old-for-college werewolf freak just because I’m-” Stiles thought he was going to say _lonely_ but instead Derek finished, “bored.”

“Okay, first of all, there are plenty of mature college students, don’t insult them with your ageist bullshit.” Stiles could practically see how hard Derek fought not to roll his eyes.

“You need friends your own age, Stiles.”

“I have _plenty_ of friends my own age. You met one of them. You would have met two more if you’d stuck around a second longer. I’m fucking _popular_ here, if you haven’t noticed.”

“You need-“

“Stop _doing_ that,” Stiles said, yelling now.

“Doing what?”

“Removing my _agency._ ”

“Stiles-”

“No, listen, for one minute, just listen. I like hanging out with you. You like hanging out with me, right?”

“Of course, but-“

“Then we’re going to keep hanging out. If I want more time to be with my other friends, I’ll tell you. But don’t flatter yourself by thinking that I never see anyone but you. And don’t ever make a decision like that for me without even _consulting_ me again. I am 19 years old. I think I can decide who to hang out with on my own, thanks.” Stiles was breathing hard, exhausted from shouting.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly, and it took Stiles by surprise. Derek wasn’t really the apologizing type.

“Yeah, I mean. Whatever. Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. Never ignore me.” Stiles tried cracking a joke, just to break the tension, “I’m very high maintenance- I need constant attention.”

Derek smiled.

Stiles felt like he could breathe again.

***

Stiles found another knit hat on his bed the next morning- blue, this time. There was no note, but the king-sized Twix stuffed inside it made it clear it that it was an apology. Stiles didn’t take it off for a week.

***

“Were you ever actually going to see a drug dealer or were you just baiting me?” Derek asked. Stiles was taking a study break. And had been for the last two hours.

“No way,” Stiles laughed, “I get my weed from Jen on the fourth floor.”

“Is that safe?”

“For me or for her?”

“For you, Stiles.” The look of concern on Derek’s face was so intense that Stiles stopped joking around and tried to look serious.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s decriminalized. So, the worst that happens is I get caught and fined a hundred bucks.”

Derek nodded, looking relieved.

“Why?”

“Well,” Derek began, and the way he wouldn’t meet Stiles's eyes peaked Stiles’s interest. “I was just thinking about the College Experience To-Do List thing.”

“You still want to do it?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

Stiles slammed his textbook shut, grinning. “I think I’m done studying.”

***

“Stop staring at me,” Derek said without looking away from the shots lined up in front of him. They’d decided to drink tonight and try smoking another time, since Jen wasn’t answering her phone. It was the lowest concentration of wolfsbane in whiskey, so Stiles wasn’t sure it would actually get Derek drunk, but he was excited Derek was even trying. He was excited that Derek trusted him enough _to_ try.

“Fine, I’ll match you. Shot for shot.” Stiles commandeered his absent roommate’s shot glasses, grabbed an open bottle of non-wolfsbane-ified whiskey, and lined five shots up for himself.

Derek snorted. “So, what, we just keep knocking whiskey back until one of us passes out?” He didn’t look enthused.

“ _Obviously_ we play a drinking game.”

Derek snorted. “That’s so college.”

“That’s the _point.”_ Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

Derek’s cynical expression finally broke, a laugh escaping him.

Something warmed in Stiles’s chest.

“So, what kind of drinking game can you play with only two people?” Derek asked, taking an experimental sniff of the wolfsbane-infused whiskey. He made a face that meant he had expected a worse smell and was pleasantly surprised.

“You want physical or intellectual?”

“For a _drinking game?”_

“Okay, so physical.”

"No, I want intellectual.” The grin on Derek’s face definitely meant he’d only said “intellectual” to be contrary, but Stiles still tried to think of something that involved more thinking and less… flipping of cups.

“What about… Truth or Truth?”

“What’s that?”

“So, basically. I ask you a question. If you answer, I have to drink, but if you won’t answer, _you_ have to drink. Then we switch. It’s like Truth or Dare, except there are only truths and if you don’t want to answer you just drink.”

“Never heard of it.”

“That’s because I just made it up.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He looked good when he smiled. Lighter, somehow. “Fine, but I’m going first.”

“Ask away, Comrade.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows again, just to see if Derek would laugh again too. He did.

Running a finger around the rim of the shot glass, Derek thought for a minute. “I’ll start easy.”

“Kind of you.”

“Thanks.” Another laugh. Another feeling like _warmth._

“What’s the most embarrassing thing to happen to you this week?”

“I accidentally called my Professor ‘Dad’ in front of a classroom of forty people two days ago.”

“Did you really?”

“I was half-asleep! And he does actually sound a lot like my dad!” Stiles protested. “Now take your shot.”

Laughing, Derek took a shot. Stiles watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, “my turn.”

“Do your worst.”

“Who’s the last person you slept with?” Stiles hadn’t meant to ask that. He actually was going to avoid sex-related questions altogether. But that slipped out anyway.

"Erin.”

“Oh, come on. Give me more than that.”

Derek shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I met her at a bar. I went back to her place. It wasn’t great.”

“Why not?”

“That’s two questions.”

Stiles punched his arm. It hurt his hand, a little.

“I don’t know. I don’t really like the sex-with-strangers thing.” Stiles didn’t ask why Derek didn’t try to date someone, if he didn’t like anonymous sex. He knew it was hard for Derek to trust anyone enough for real dating. Trusting someone to accept him as a werewolf would have been bad enough, but after _Kate?_ No, Stiles didn’t have to ask why Derek didn’t date.

Stiles drank his whiskey.

***

They continued like that for nine more shots. The questions stayed pretty tame, light-hearted. Stiles told Derek that his worst irrational fear was centipedes. Derek told Stiles that goblins were his least favorite magical creature. And so on.

They had to stop when Stiles slipped off his chair and onto the floor. As it happens, ten shots were enough to get Stiles _thoroughly drunk._ Derek was mildly buzzed.

"No _fair,_ ” Stiles whined, climbing into bed while Derek put on his jacket. “You’re not drunk _at all._ ” He must have looked comically mournful because Derek, laughing, patted his head.

“We can try again soon.”

“Promise?” Stiles grabbed at Derek’s hand. Holding it very close to his eyes, Stiles muttered, “You have beautiful hands.”

Derek gently extracted his hand from Stiles’s grip.

“Yes. And thanks.” Stiles was too drunk to decipher the expression on Derek’s face. It looked sort of _fond._

Derek turned off the lights and gently shut the door behind him.

Stiles sighed and slipped off to sleep. He dreamt of Derek and his beautiful hands.

He woke up feeling less embarrassed than he probably should have. But maybe the hangover eclipsed the shame.

***

It took them three more times for Derek to get anything more than a little tipsy, three more evenings where Stiles got drunker than intended and then regretted it the next morning, but on that fourth try, Stiles was sure that Derek finally knew what it felt like to be well and truly drunk.

“Distract me,” Derek commanded, or commanded as best he could while slightly slurring his words. He was sitting on the cold tile of Stiles’ bathroom floor. His head rested on the side of the toilet bowl, and his eyes were closed. Stiles resisted the urge get up from where he sat, leaning against the bathtub opposite Derek. He fought the urge to go to him, to rub his back, comb his fingers through Derek’s hair, whisper that he was sorry for getting him too drunk, that everything would be alright.

Stiles wasn’t exactly sober himself.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. “Distract you how?” Stiles didn’t mean for it to sound like such an innuendo.

Derek didn’t seem to notice. In fact, his face looked _pained._ “Just talk to me. The more I think about puking, the more I want to puke. Tell me about something. Anything.” He still didn’t open his eyes.

Stiles was good at talking. He scrambled for a neutral topic, something that would distract Derek from puking while also distracting Stiles from whatever it was he was currently feeling. _Butterflies_ , his brain supplied. He started babbling to distance himself from the thought.

“Ya know,” Stiles said. “Most people know that Fitzgerald and Hemingway were friends, but not a lot of people are aware of how gay their friendship sounded.”

Derek snorted.

“No, really,” Stiles continued. “One time, Zelda, that’s F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife, told Fitzgerald that his dick was too small. Seriously. Just cos she was mad at him. So, Fitzgerald gets all self-conscious cos Zelda’s the only woman he’s ever slept with, and well, that was a mean thing for her to say. He must have really pissed her off.”

Stiles paused, looking to over to where Derek was now hunched over the toilet. He retched once, twice, and then waved at Stiles to continue.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get you some water or something, man?”

“Just continue the story,” Derek practically moaned, his voice hoarse from throwing up.

“Okay, okay, so, Fitzgerald calls Hemingway and they get dinner. And then finally, at the end of the dinner, Fitzgerald reveals that the reason he called Hemingway was because of his dick size crisis. He tells Hemingway what Zelda said and Hemingway pulls Fitzgerald into the bathroom. Fitzgerald showed Hemingway his dick in a restaurant bathroom.”

Derek let out a laugh and it sounded a little pathetic, but it was still a laugh, and that made Stiles want to weep with relief. He felt terrible for not warning Derek to take it slower with the whiskey once the wolfsbane concentration started increasing more.

“And that’s not all,” Stiles went on, “Hemingway tells Fitzgerald that his dick is a normal size, but Fitzgerald is still unsure, so _then,_ Hemingway takes Fitzgerald to the Louvre and they spend the rest of the day looking at the dicks on sculptures and in paintings to convince Fitzgerald that his dick isn’t small.”

“Stop saying the word dick,” Derek whispered, but he was smiling.

After Derek started snoring on the bathroom floor, Stiles woke him up and helped Derek into his bed. Stiles took an extra pillow and blanket and settled in to sleep on the floor. He thought Derek had fallen back asleep, but when he looked up, Derek was staring at him.

The image of Derek Hale nestled between Stiles’ sheets, looking at him with such intensity, made Stiles ache to get up from the floor and slip into bed behind Derek, to hold him.

For the sake of their friendship, Stiles started babbling, this time to distract himself. “In Hemingway’s memoir, he describes his first impression of Fitzgerald, and it is also super gay.”

“What?” Derek asked, blinking, confused.

“He goes on about Fitzgerald’s mouth for so long. About how beautiful it would be on a girl. I just remember this one line where he says, _‘The mouth worried you until you knew him and then it worried you more.’_ I mean _come on._ ”

 “I know someone with a mouth like that.” Derek’s voice was so low that Stiles almost missed what he said. Stiles’s heart picked up in tempo, and he worried that Derek could hear it, but when Stiles finally worked up the courage to look back over at Derek, he discovered that Derek had already fallen back asleep.

_Bastard._

Stiles fell asleep with his hand against his mouth.

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THERE WILL BE //AT LEAST// KISSING NEXT CHAPTER I'M SO SORRY DON'T HATE ME


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, man, it’s cool, we can forget this whole thing happened. I’ll uh, see you... around... I guess.” Stiles’s throat suddenly felt tight, like maybe he’d burst into tears any second. He reached for the door handle, but the car was still locked.
> 
> Stiles looked back at Derek to tell him as much, but when he turned, Derek was way closer than expected. Derek leaned even further across the console, bringing a hand up to hold Stiles’s chin.
> 
> “I don’t want to forget this happened,” Derek said, and it was so unnecessarily dramatic, Stiles should have laughed, but he couldn’t do much of anything right now. Not when he could feel his heart beating in his ears, not when all he could think about was the way Derek’s thumb brushed, slowly, gently, down the line of Stiles’s jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for not updating for an ENTIRE YEAR! But a couple recent comments on the fic + a new teen wolf trailer with STEREK IN IT has inspired me, so here ya FINALLY go!

Stiles had a theory. At first, Stiles thought he was just imagining things, just projecting his own attraction. But after last night, after the “I know someone with a mouth like that” comment… Well, the theory was this: Maybe, just maybe, Derek was attracted to Stiles too. Stiles wasn’t so naive that he thought it  _ meant  _ anything, but it didn’t have to, right? People did the friends with benefits thing all the time. They could benefit from a mutual attraction without completely ruining their friendship, right? He considered it for a couple days, going about his life, treating Derek like normal, but by the time the weekend rolled around, he had, well, not quite a plan, but at least an idea.

***

“So,” Stiles started, spinning around in his desk chair to face Derek, who was sitting on his bed reading, as per usual. “College To-Do List.”

“No more drinking,” Derek quickly responded. His expression could only be described as  _ pained.  _ “At least not for a little while.”

“I was thinking of something a little…  _ greener.”  _ Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

Derek looked thoughtful for a second. “No hangovers?”

“No hangovers.” Stiles raised two fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

Derek closed his book, then pointed at Stiles with it. “I’m trusting you.”

Stiles grinned in response, but internally, he was trying to ignore the onset of nerves. He fetched a small glass mini-bong and an herb grinder from his desk drawer. The weed was already ground up, so he pinched a little bit out and smushed it into the bowl of the bong.

Derek moved over to Stiles, sniffing the air near him. “Is the wolfsbane ground up with the weed?” he asked. Stiles was glad he sounded more curious than skeptical.

“Nah, I didn’t want to have to repeat the whole process of figuring out how much you would need to feel anything. Plus, I only have the one thing to smoke out of, and it’s not really safe for me to smoke any amount of wolfsbane. It wouldn’t kill me, but I couldn’t just heal the way you can and after it wears off, and I’m unsure of the lasting effects of mild wolfsbane poisoning for humans.”

Derek nodded. “Good. I wouldn’t want you smoking it either. But then...how…?”

Stiles dug around in his desk drawer until he found the vial of wolfsbane tincture and then held it up, “Behold! The exact amount of wolfsbane you need to slow down your healing for approximately eight hours! As deduced by our hangover-inducing experiments.” He brandished the vial like a sword. 

Derek barked out a laugh, swiping the vial from him and inspecting it. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

They locked eyes as Derek knocked it back. Something about Derek’s lips wrapped around the glass as he looked directly into Stiles eyes had Stiles holding his breath for a moment, entranced.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Derek said, setting the empty glass vial down on the desk. Stiles gulped, just a little.

***

They couldn’t smoke in his dorm room without the risk of Stiles’ RA finding out, so they drove to a nearby park. Derek sat with his back up against a tree, and Stiles was reminded of how much more peaceful Derek always looked surrounded by nature.

“What?” Derek asked, catching Stiles staring.

“Nothing. You just look nice. At home.” It was late dusk by now, and the way the last dregs of light filtered through the leaves made Derek look even more beautiful than normal. It brought out the green in his eyes and the brown in his hair, cast a gold glow to his skin. 

Derek shrugged and looked up. “I like trees,” he said, simply.

“Uh, well, speaking of trees…” Stiles pulled out the packed mini-bong and a lighter from his backpack. He flicked the lighter on, lit a corner of the weed in the bowl, and took a small hit before passing it to Derek.

Derek held the bong uncertainly, putting his mouth on it and then drawing back twice, three times. He looked confused when no smoke came out of his mouth. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.” He sounded adorably put-out.

The fact that Stiles didn’t fully explain the mechanics of the bong, like how Derek needed to actually pull out the bowl while breathing in to get the smoke to move from the chamber and into his lungs… was possibly completely intentional. Not that Stiles would ever admit it.

“Hm,” Stiles said, pretending to think for a moment. “What if…” Stiles faltered for a second, suddenly doubting his plan. “I mean, would it be weird if... I mean I don’t think it’d be weird, but definitely feel free to say no-”

“Stiles.” Derek leveled him with a look that clearly meant  _ just spit it out already. _

“I just mean sometimes it’s easier, when you’ve never done it before, if you just shotgun it.” Stiles’ words came out in such a rush it was a wonder Derek understood him at all.

“I don’t know what that means.” Derek was looking at him so intently that Stiles felt a blush beginning at the base of his neck.

“It’s when someone takes a hit and then just blows the smoke into the other person’s mouth instead of breathing it in themselves. So, like, that person gets the smoke without having to do anything.” Stiles looked at the grass. The bark behind Derek’s head. Anything but Derek’s face.

“Okay.”

Stiles looked at his face finally. The intense gaze was still there. “Okay?”

“Yes, Stiles.” 

The air felt thick… charged, almost. Stiles was almost reluctant to break eye contact this time. But he didn’t want Derek to change his mind. Taking a decent-sized hit, Stiles filled his mouth with smoke and then edged closer to Derek.

And then he stopped. Derek’s mouth was parted, waiting for him, and it shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, but his head was tilted up, just a little, and the lids of his eyes were lowered, just a little, and it was   _ sensual,  _ dammit. 

Until Derek burst out laughing.

“ _ What!”  _ Stiles exclaimed, offended, and smoke burst from his mouth, which just made Derek laugh harder.

“You just looked… so much… like a chipmunk,” Derek gasped between spurts of laughter. 

Stiles wanted to remain offended, but found himself laughing too. And okay, Stiles could see how, with the puffed up cheeks, he might have looked like a chipmunk. Mostly, though, Stiles loved Derek’s laugh, would let maybe any offense slip because of that laugh. 

“Okay, okay… let’s try again,” Derek said once he’d calmed down.

“No laughing.” Stiles wagged a finger at him.

“None, I promise,” Derek said, and there was just enough light left to see his smile.

Stiles repeated the earlier motion: lighting a corner, pulling the bowl out, breathing in the smoke and holding it in his mouth. He didn’t need to move closer to Derek this time, was already close enough from the last time, but still, he hesitated.

Then, Derek dipped his head down, and Stiles tilted his head up, and suddenly their mouths were touching, feather light, and Stiles was opening his mouth. He felt when Derek breathed the smoke in, and then let it out through his nose, but he didn’t pull back. Neither did Derek. Not for one beat. Then two.

The spell was broken by a coughing fit. Stiles scrambled for his bottle of water, offering it to Derek, who waved him off.

“I’m fine,” Derek said, and then coughed one more time.

“Sorry that was maybe too much smoke,” Stiles said. He’d never actually seen Derek cough before, he realized. Weird.  _ Werewolves _ , man.

“No… no. It was… good,” Derek said when he’d finishing coughing, and maybe Stiles was projecting again, but it didn’t sound like Derek meant the weed. 

But, no, Stiles wasn’t imagining the way Derek seemed to be tilting back towards him, mouth parted like… like… 

Like he wanted to kiss Stiles.

Their mouths met again, just a fraction less light than before, and then Derek was pulling back again, eyes searching, making sure this was okay. And oh my god, how did Derek not get that of course this was okay. This was more than okay, this was-

Stiles surged forward, closing the small space between them again, and this time, it was a real kiss. Nothing light about it. Derek’s hand moved to cup the back of his head, fingers lacing through Stiles’ hair, and Stiles deepened the kiss. The heat of Derek’s mouth was incredible, and Stiles chased it, tongue snaking out to  _ taste.  _

Derek let out a small gasp, and Stiles took that opportunity to kiss a line down his neck. Stopping at the junction of Derek’s neck and shoulder, he nipped, sucked, just enough to leave a mark. And thank god for the wolfsbane because Derek’s healing was slowed enough that Stiles actually could leave a mark. The red-purple bruise made something flip in Stiles’ stomach, but before he could really appreciate his handiwork, Derek was pushing him forward.

Derek straddled Stiles’ body and kissed him with a fervor that made Stiles buck up against him. And oh  _ god,  _ Derek was  _ hard _ , hard for  _ him,  _ and it was almost too much. He would have moaned if he could, but Derek’s mouth was still firmly fixed over his, and Stiles was very,  _ very  _ okay with that.

Except then Derek was pulling back, lightning-quick, and his expression was serious,  _ alarmed.  _

At first, Stiles thought he’d done something wrong, taken it too far maybe. But then he heard, just barely, what Derek must have heard a moment before:  _ sirens. _

“Shit.” Someone must have saw them and called the cops.

And then before Stiles really knew what was happening, Derek had thrown him over his shoulder and was  _ sprinting,  _ inhumanly fast, towards his parked car. He threw Stiles and his backpack in the passenger seat, and Stiles had barely closed the door before Derek was peeling out of the parking lot.

Maybe it was the adrenaline doing weird things to him, but as Stiles looked at Derek, who was the  picture of tension with his hands gripping the wheel and his shoulders tight, he couldn’t help laughing. A lot. Like, he could not stop laughing. He probably sounded deranged. The thought made him laugh harder.

Derek took a break from driving way too fast to look over at Stiles questioningly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles said, trying to catch his breath, “it just feels so much like I’m back in high school. You manhandling me and then speeding away from something chasing us. Except this time the cops aren’t led by my dad, thank god.”

One side of Derek’s mouth turned up, but as he parked behind Stiles’s dorm, he looked serious. Too serious, honestly. It was kind of worrying.

Derek turned to Stiles, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked frustrated.

“Is this where you apologize for ‘putting me in danger’? Cos I’m serious, we really would have just received a fine, it’s no big deal. Like, I’m glad we lost ‘em, but it wouldn’t have been that bad if we were caught,” Stiles said, trying to ease the obvious pain Derek was in.

“No- I mean, yeah- but,” Derek ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “I’m more concerned with the kissing than the cops,” he finally said.

Stiles stomach dropped about 10,000 feet. Right. The kissing.

“Sorry?” Stiles replied, and he hated how small his voice sounded, but how else are you supposed to sound when you thought someone was into something and now they’re “concerned.”

“No, don’t- ugh,” Derek said, and the frustrated vibes he was giving off were so heavy, Stiles sunk down a little in his seat and looked out the window. The parking lot was deserted, but he could hear music blaring from someone’s open dorm window. He felt trapped and a little sick. Of course he shouldn’t have kissed Derek.  _ Of course. _

“Stiles look at me,” Derek said, and Stiles turned towards him. Derek looked panicked, and frankly, Stiles really did not want to see him panicking over something Stiles had thought was going well. “I really liked kissing you.”

“What?” Stiles blurted because that… was not what he thought Derek would say. “Why do you look like you’re about ten seconds away from driving straight off a cliff then?”

“It’s- complicated. I mean, I don’t- I can’t,” Derek shook his head and cursed under his breath.

“Use your words, Der.” Derek rolled his eyes at him, but it seemed to snap him back into himself a little.

“I can’t do the whole the relationship thing. With anyone, I mean. I just, I can’t,” Derek said, and he looked at Stiles so earnestly, it made Stiles want to  _ hold  _ him. 

“I’m not asking you to,” Stiles replied. Because he wasn’t. Stiles knew Derek wouldn’t be into that. He wouldn’t pretend like it didn’t sting a little bit, Derek confirming it, but it’s not like Stiles was devastated because he hadn’t  _ expected  _ for this to  _ mean  _ anything. “I didn’t expect this to mean anything,” Stiles told him out loud.

“What did you expect then?” Derek replied and he was still looking too earnest. Stiles folded his hands together to keep from touching him.

“I don’t know. I mean. Nothing. I liked kissing you. I think it’d be cool to do some more of that. If you want. But I’m not… I mean, I get that it’d be a friends thing. Just a coupla guys bein dudes…” Stiles trailed off, internally kicking himself for being utterly incapable of staying serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It was such a typical Derek line. Stiles sunk down further and the leather squeaked. Maybe he’d been reading this wrong. Maybe the relationship talk was just an excuse to not have to explain that Stiles was a shitty kisser and Derek wanted nothing to do with him. The rush of insecurity brought the high school comparison full circle.

“Hey, man, it’s cool, we can forget this whole thing happened. I’ll uh, see you... around... I guess.” Stiles’s throat suddenly felt tight, like maybe he’d burst into tears any second. He reached for the door handle, but the car was still locked.

Stiles looked back at Derek to tell him as much, but when he turned, Derek was way closer than expected. Derek leaned even further across the console, bringing a hand up to hold Stiles’s chin.

“I don’t want to forget this happened,” Derek said, and it was so unnecessarily dramatic, Stiles should have laughed, but he couldn’t do much of anything right now. Not when he could feel his heart beating in his ears, not when all he could think about was the way Derek’s thumb brushed, slowly, gently, down the line of Stiles’s jaw.

“What  _ do _ you want?” Stiles whispered. He was eternally thankful for Derek’s werewolf hearing because he could  _ not  _ have repeated that if it was too soft for Derek to hear.

Derek waited a moment before replying, and it killed Stiles. It did. He was dead. Waiting like that, barely a few inches from Derek’s face, his thumb still tracing white hot lines up and down his jaw, was actual murder. Stiles wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to complicate things,” Derek said after what felt like an actual millenia. He was whispering too.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Stiles breathed, begged practically.

Stiles’s eyes fluttered shut as Derek closed the space between them. The kiss was gentler than before, firm but sweet somehow. Derek’s other hand came up so he was holding Stiles’s face, and something ached in Stiles’s chest. Derek’s lips were so  _ soft.  _  Stiles was good with the just-friends thing, he was. It’d been his plan from the start after all, but he couldn’t do sweet if he was also doing no-emotions. 

Stiles tilted his head, opening his mouth and pressing his lips harder against Derek’s. Their tongues moved against each other’s, but it wasn’t enough, it still felt too slow, too much like an end-of-date kiss and not enough like a friends-with-benefits kiss. He clamored over the camaro’s center console, trying not to break the kiss in the process. Derek obliged, moving his hands from Stiles’s face to his waist, and letting Stiles straddle him. That was better. Stiles ground his hips down, and Derek let out a gasp.

“Too much?” Stiles asked, still whispering. “Do you want me to stop?” He kept flickering between Utter Confidence and Complete Uncertainty. Derek had that effect on him.

“ _ No, _ ” Derek growled in response, really growled, and okay, wow that was hot. Stiles moved his hips again experimentally and Derek latched his mouth onto Stiles’s neck in response. His kisses were no longer light and gentle. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure that was going to leave a wicked hickey, but he didn’t care. This finally felt like a hookup instead of a feelings-even-though-we-can’t-do-feelings thing, and  _ god his mouth felt good.  _ Derek tugged on Stiles’s earlobe with teeth, and Stiles didn’t even know that was a thing for him but yeah okay apparently that’s a thing for him.

Stiles pulled Derek’s head up by his hair and this time their kissing was ferocious. Stiles moved his hips again, and he could feel how hard Derek was beneath him. He desperately wished there wasn’t two layers of denim between them, but he also wasn’t sure how much he wanted to get naked in his dorm’s parking lot. Also, not a lot of room in the Camaro, ya know? He was just about to say  _ fuck it  _ and reach for Derek’s jean’s zipper when suddenly there was a loud  _ tap tap tap  _ on the window.

Stiles head flew up in surprise, banging against the camaro’s ceiling.

“Ow, fuck,”  _ tap tap tap, “ _ open the window, who is that?” Stiles rubbed his head in pain.

Laughing, Derek opened the window, and Stiles sheepishly smiled at the student peering in at them.

“Uh, sorry to be weird, but I’m scheduled to lead a tour of parents through here soon, and I thought you should, like, know.” The girl clutched a clipboard to her chest and rocked from foot to foot, looking awkward.

“Right, uh, yeah, we’ll… get out of here,” Stiles said and oh my god at least it wasn’t his RA. Stiles extracted himself from their tangle and rolled over to the passenger side. He looked up at the ceiling and cursed whatever god hated him. First the police and now a tour group,  _ really? _

“We have terrible luck,” Derek said, and yep, he was still definitely laughing.

“I could have told you that years ago, man,” Stiles said, and okay, yeah, it was pretty funny. They sat there giggling until a group of parents arrived, and then they exited the car and tried to skirt around them.

“Good evening,” Derek said to the group, and his face was so straight, Stiles burst into giggles all over again.


End file.
